So We Meet Again
by ispeakwhale
Summary: Bella and Edward meet on a plane to Boston and Edward expects to see her that fall at Amherst College. Bella lied however, and appears at the college 2 years later, as a freshman. Edward is her RA. Does he remember her? Does he forgive her?
1. Chapter 1

I can't talk to him.

Yes I can. I am perfectly capable of making conversation with a Mr. McSexsex like the one next to me. I am _NOT _a hot mess of awkwardness. I am that minus the awkward. I am awesome. I am Bella Swan. I am a strong independent woman who is not intimidated by drool-inspiring pieces of man candy.

Oh, fuck it.

I am Bella Swan, but due to my horrible social skills and almost non-existent self-confidence, I am not able to talk to my fellow passenger, who overwhelms all of my senses. I actually feel fluttery...and breathless. _Maybe if I hyper-ventilate and swoon on him he'll hold me and we'll live happily ever after. Or, more likely, he'll be repulsed and push you into the aisle. _No, he seems too nice to do that, even though we haven't exchanged a word in the entire half-hour we've been flying. He _did _give me a smile when we sat down in our seats. That's probably why I'm so infatuated with him—that smile was…heart-stopping, not to be all clichéd. I sneakily try to inhale a huge breath of air through my nose, partly to calm down and partly because I want some more of his scent to grace my olfactory nerve. Which, due to conflicting reactions, leaves me in the same state as before. I sigh. He smells good, like man and mountains, but not mountain man, because that's stinky. I can feel the heat of his arms and legs, and it's making _me _heat up.

"Are you a nervous flyer?"

Oh, Kelly Clarkson, he _spoke._ I glance up at him, and he's giving me a kind smile that isn't patronizing, just, caring. _Huh. _I'm usually prepared for the former, because I look the sixteen years old I am, mostly due to my fashion choices, which consist of jeans and tshirts. I make the mistake of getting lost in his intricately green eyes. It's like one look and you're a goner, succumbed to the pits of…sexiness. Amazingly, I'm able to shake myself out of it.

"No, I actually really enjoy it. Turbulence and all." I smile and pat myself on the back. I'm pleased. It was a decent answer, not ideal, but definitely didn't make me sound like an idiot/creeper/and/or child like I'm often bound to.

"Me too-- most of the time. Except for turbulence. I've never met someone who liked it," he replied, looking at me and then down at his hands, almost shyly. _Hmmm. _When I really look at him, he doesn't appear to be as old as I thought he looked. More like 20 rather than mid-20's. Still too old and hot for me though.

"Hah. I figure if you're on the plane, you don't have any control over what happens, so you might as well enjoy it. Turbulence is kinda like a rollercoaster. 'No hands!'" I even put my hands up level with my head in a modified rollercoaster enthusiast pose. Oh no, oh no oh no oh no, I didn't. I did. I just made a perfectly normal conversation awkward. Oh thank god, he's laughing.

"That's a great way to look at it! Seriously, if we hit turbulence on this flight, we're doing that, because it really sounds like it'd make it less scary." He chuckles a bit afterwards. "My name's Edward by the way," he says, extending an arms across his lap in front of me.

"Bella," I reply, slipping my small hand into his much larger one. We give two firm, half-serious shakes before releasing, while I grin uncontrollably. If I thought I was tingly before, it was nothing compared to now. Why do guys always seem to have deliciously warm hands? And his were also calloused, which I liked, because who wants a guy who can't do any labor and consequently can't carry you around bridal style? Definitely not me. Hah, I love my logic, it makes so much sense.

"So are you headed to school in Boston? Or is that just a stop in your journey?" he asks. I'm really glad he's continuing the conversation, because I don't want to stop talking to him. And if he's initiating the efforts, it means he wants to, right? Wait, by school does that mean he thinks I'm in college? That would be… an enormous ego boost. My friend Angela and I, we're really shy, and after a couple good recent contacts with college boys that went bad due to them finding out our real age, we decided we should just say we're freshmen. Because what's a couple years? And you're never going to see them again. And when I say contact, I mean talking to a couple of guys at the parent's weekend tailgate where my brother Emmett goes to school, but only because he brought them over. Yeah. So, I decide to go with our plan.

"Yeah, I'm actually starting at Amherst in a couple weeks. I'm visiting some family first before orientation" It's not a complete lie, I am spending the last two weeks before junior year at my grandmother's house in Amherst. Since I'm there, and I love everything I've read about the school, I'm taking a tour. I won't have many other opportunities because I live in Washington, and who knows the next time I'll be able to fly across the country?

Edwards looks incredulous at my answer. He laughs, a huge smile on his face and says, "No way, me too! We'll have to meet up!"

Oh shit.


	2. Chapter 2

"_Yeah, I'm actually starting at Amherst in a couple weeks. I'm visiting some family first before orientation" It's not a complete lie, I am spending the last two weeks before junior year at my grandmother's house in Amherst. Since I'm there, and I love everything I've read about the school, I'm taking a tour. I won't have many other opportunities because I live in Washington, and who knows the next time I'll be able to fly across the country?_

_Edwards looks incredulous at my answer. He laughs, a huge smile on his face and says, "No way, me too! We'll have to meet up!"_

_Oh shit._

"Wow…Who'da thought?!...That's such a coinkydink!" I purposely avoid the second part of his statement.

Stupid stupid stupid stupid STUPID! Of course the first time I actually try lying it blows up like Hiroshima. Guess that should be a lesson in why not to lie…

I just said coinkydink.

Edward's laughing at me again.

"Do you know what residence hall you're staying in?" he asks, still chuckling a little.

Oh dear god. I'm not good enough of a liar _to _lie, because it seems like a bunch of them will always have to follow it.

"Um…no…"

Think fast Bella. You can do it girl, you're an honor student.

"I uh… got my paperwork in right at the deadline so some things got messed up that they're still working out." That's reasonable, right?

"Oh." His face falls a little, but then he says, "I'm in Harrison Hall. I guess it's one of the more rowdy ones." He pulls his spectacular grin. Swoon.

"So where are you from?" I ask, desperate to change the subject to things I don't have to make up.

"Uh, Seattle actually. I went to a prep school there. Cities are good and all, but I was looking for something more rural," he replies. So he can run trails through the woods and climb mountains, preferably with me over his shoulder.

We chatted surprisingly comfortably for the next hour or so, about what we did for fun and what we were thinking of studying in school. I don't really do anything extracurricular outside of school except for the flute, which I'm pretty good at, and I'm pretty sure I want to major in English. Although, I have two more years to figure that out, but Edward doesn't know that. He's a three sport athlete: soccer, hockey, and baseball. Hott. With two t's, like Christina Aguilera puts two r's in "dirrty". That's also part of the reason he's going to Amherst-- they want him on the soccer team. As if it isn't enough that he's genuinely nice, smart, and athletic, he's going pre-med because he wants to be a pediatrician. He's perfect.

I hadn't notice the slight drops and shaking the plane had been making, but an enormous, gut-suspending one brought it to Edward's and my attention. We both reached out to grasp our armrests, our fingers jolting away from each other a little at the contact. The change in elevation surprised me, but I wasn't worried about it. I looked over at Edward and his mouth was set in a tight line. I hadn't noticed it before, but now that I thought about it, he'd gotten increasingly more tense from the start of the turbulence. Guys just seem to get worked up about flying. Hoping to _add levity to the proceedings_, I raised my arms up a little in the air and caught his eye.

"No hands!"

He let out a bark of laughter and visibly relaxed a little, lifting his finely sculpted arms into the air next to mine. I'm so happy he chose to wear a t-shirt this morning. My ovaries and I. What a pair. The stuffy looking people sitting next to us, who I'd been completely unaware of because of the specimen next to me, look annoyed. And worried. The turbulence is worse than any I'd ever been on before. I look out the window next to me and watch the impressive bolts of lightning flash across the sky and disappear, only to be followed in immediate succession by another.

It is while I am looking out this window, with my arms still raised a little in the air, that the plane takes the biggest lurch yet. Unable to brace myself with my uselessly positioned hands, my head cracks into the side of the plane.

Dizzy, blurry, darkness… gone.


	3. Chapter 3

_Dizzy, blurry, darkness… gone._

"Bella?...Bella?...Can you hear me?"

Owww…holy shit…

Chuckling. Okay, I'm not in my brain anymore, there's definitely a man, or men, laughing.

"Well, it seems she's alive enough to swear."

Oops. I guess I lost my already nonexistent brain-mouth filter. Since my thinking, and obvious pain, has returned, I try to figure out what the rest of my body is doing. I'm still seeing only darkness (hopefully I'm not blind) so I just feel. Okay, aside from my head, I'm relatively comfortable. There's cushiness beneath my back and head… all right, I think I'm lying down. But whatever I'm lying on keeps shaking and lurching around like a bad roller coaster. My feet are… up in the air? What? And there's something pressing securely across my stomach…

My eyes fly open. I'm looking up at a middle aged man with kind blue eyes. He smiles gently at me, as my own brown eyes—crazily, I'm sure—stare at him. Confusedly.

"There you are. Bella, can you tell me what day it is?" he asks, in that steady, unworried tone all doctors seem to have. I can attest to that, I've seen a lot of them.

"Uh… August 8," I reply. "2007."

"What's your birthday?"

"Uhm… September 13, 1991."

"Good. Now follow my finger."

As my eyes stay dutifully trained on his moving phalanges, I realized he had no way to know what my birthday was.

"Wait, how do you know when my birthday is?"

"I don't. But if _you _didn't, because you actually had a concussion—which you don't, by the way—you would have struggled to remember it or not at all."

An enormous lurch of whatever we're both resting on cuts him off, and I notice his eyes are crinkled slightly in worry, but not for me, because I'm deemed fine. This erratic movement is familiar, I'm pretty sure I've just experienced it recently… and then it hits me.

"Oh! We're on a plane!"

The nice doctor laughs. "Yes, yes we are. A bouncing, lurching, horribly unpleasant plane ride. I thought you were aware of that when your mind seemed to be functioning properly. I'm sorry. I don't think it's anything to be concerned about that you didn't realize it, though. You seem to be regaining information fine and are coherent. I suggest you get checked out in a proper hospital, though, when you're home—just in case."

"Thank you. I'm sorry you had to do this—these kinds of things happen to me a lot. I've actually had a few concussions but this doesn't feel like one. Just a good old knock out." Like a blow from Mike Tyson. At least I still have my ear.

"No problem, Bella. The flight attendants will give me a few nips as my reward." He grins. "Quite excellent, considering they'll calm my nerves a little from this god awful flight. You just stay lying down. And no sudden movements." He looks at me fake-sternly. " I've gotta get back to my seat and strap myself in so I don't end up like you." I laugh. Then realize something.

"But wait… how'd you know my name?"

"Why from the fine gentleman who's holding you down to the seat!" He laughs, gets up from his spot directly behind my head, gives a smile and a wave, and walks away. Back to his seat I guess. And some nips, apparently.

I move my gaze from directly at the ceiling of the plane to down towards my feet. And groan. And cover my face in my hands, wishing that blow to the head had just killed me, instead of putting me through this misery.

My legs and feet are in the lap of Edward, my sexy seatmate. AND he's got an arm across my stomach, with his hand gripping the edge of the seat, securing me so I don't fly into the ceiling, I presume.

"Hi." I can hear obvious in his humor at his voice.

"mmmmmmmnrrrrgnrrrgnrrrg"

"What?"

"This is embarrassing," I say in a tiny voice, spreading my fingers and looking at him.

"It's fine. I'm not bothered. I now have an incredibly interesting story to tell all my family. About the girl who pretends turbulence is a rollercoaster and knocked herself out," he teased. I smile, pathetically, in return.

His turns serious. "I'm glad you're okay though. That was a little scary. Your head really cracked into the wall."

"Oh, this body has been through far worse than this." I realized we were in completely different positions from what we started out in at the beginning of the flight, and the two people sitting next to us were gone, obviously, because I was lying across their seats.

"Um, can you tell me what happened? And how I got from where I was to where I am, because I was…over… there…" Warning: injury to head may cause intensification of awkwardness.

He looks away from me, a little uncomfortably, then plane takes another dive and his grip on me tightens. When it rights itself as well as it's going to, he answers, "Well, you hit your head and knocked yourself out. And after a minute of me trying to wake you up like an idiot by shaking your shoulder, the people in the seat called around for a doctor. They're actually very nice. They left and when to sit in a couple empty seats. I didn't know planes even _had _empty seats, but anyways. So, Dr. Masen comes over and asks to get you into a lying position and away from the window so he could sit next to you. I moved you and sat in your seat because you needed you feet above your head and so Dr. Masen could attend to you."

Did he lift me up bridal style to move me? Repositioning must have been awkward as hell, because although the seats were "New, improved, and more room to move!", there still wasn't much space. He probably didn't do any romantic lifting, I remind myself. He probably just had to push my dead weight around while I flopped like a toddler not wanting to be picked up. Lovely.

"Oh… well, thank you. I'm sorry you got involved with this."

"It's okay. If it had happened to me, I would have wanted someone there I knew when I came to. Even if we only sort of know each other." He smiles. Swoon. "Speaking of that, I couldn't help noticing. When he asked you your birthday, you said it was in 1991. Which would make you sixteen. And you're going to college?"

SHIT. AGAIN! I thought I was through with lying! I thought all I'd have to do was say, "Hey! So cool to meet someone before school actually started! See you there!" But NOOOO.

Okay. If I've done this much, I can lie a little more. O_r you could just tell him the truth. _No. No no no. Not an option. He's so… nice. I couldn't stand for him to be disgusted with me. Especially now after all this. Because everyone hates a liar.

All right. Feign ignorance.

"Oh, I did? I meant 1990. I think I said that, and then was going to tell him that one time I couldn't remember my birthday when I hit my head so they gave me a CT scan." Ahhh. This is starting to get a little scary how I'm coming up with all this stuff.

"Ohh. Okay."

Phew.

With all the excitement from the accident, there wasn't much of the flight left. I stayed lying down, talking with Edward, with my feet in his lap, until we needed to prepare for landing. The turbulence still sucked, and when needed, Edward would hold me more securely to him and the seats I was lying on. I tried to sit up, but he held me down, telling me Dr. Masen had said not to let me up until absolutely necessary, to let me rest and keep my head from jostling around. When I did have to sit up, he helped me move carefully into a sitting position. He was so sweet.

He carried my backpack off the plane, slinging it over his shoulder along with his. We got our luggage together—he pulled my suitcase off the carousel for me. My grandmother was picking me up because she'd the afternoon in the city. It only took a few hours to get from Logan to her house, and we'd had an early flight, so we'd be home before dark. Edward had to wait for a bus.

I saw my grandmother making my way through the crowd towards me. I waved to let her know I saw her, and turned to Edward say goodbye—for forever. I'd hoped to have my farewell with him before Gran got to me, but it was futile. She's not known for being subtle, and she certainly lived up to her reputation.

"SWEETIE! How ARE you?! Oh you look AMAZING! So much more grown up since the last time I saw you. You're finally filling out your clothes in the right places."

Edward snorted.

I turned the ever-so-attractive lobster red I always do when embarrassed. I'm sure it's the only color Edward's seen me be.

"Um, thanks Gran. You're looking good yourself." But she didn't hear me. She'd turned on Edward.

"And who is THIS?! A very very _fine _looking young man. I didn't know my Jelly Belly had it in her to actually TALK to someone who looks like you do."

"I'm Edward Cullen, and I think Bella has the ability talk to whoever she wants to. She's a wonderful person." The glorious bastard wasn't even fazed by her onslaught. He really was a god. And he called me wonderful.

Gran just stood there looking at him with the huge, creepy smile that weirded out people who didn't know her and even those that did. I finally found my voice again. "Edward and I sat together on the plane. I managed to bang my head and get knocked unconscious but he put up with me very graciously."

"_Did _he?" Gran just kept right on alookin'.

Edward must have sensed the need to add something, because he said, "We found that, very pleasantly coincidentally, we're both attending Amherst this fall. You must be looking forward to having Bella close by."

Not THAT something!

But Gran just looked at me, me standing there getting impossibly red, and her smile got impossibly bigger, and she had that dangerous twinkle in her eye. I shot her a warning look, because I knew what she was capable of. She surprised me by being…chill…

"Isn't that something? I _very_ much so look forward to spending more time with my…

Smelly Belly."

Scratch that.

Edward laughed loudly at that one. "Do I want to know how you got that nickname?"

"NO!" I yelled, a little too forcefully. A couple people looked over at me.

"Well, when my Bella Boo was little, she was a bit of a germ freak. She wanted to take baths _every _day, until she watched a movie about ghosts in the water and…"

"All right Gran! I really don't think Edward wants to hear this."

"I am rather interested, but I'll let you tell me in your own time." He's looking at me with something… soft in his expression.

Shit. I'd forgotten that he thinks we're going to see each other again. We're not. Unless I go to Amherst, but that's not anything to rely on. I probably won't get in. I'm ridiculously saddened by the thought of never seeing him again. He wasn't just incredibly attractive… we'd… clicked. We liked similar movies…music…areas of the country. He was older than me, but treated me as an equal. Maybe that's not fair, because he didn't know how old I was. But wait, he thinks I'm seventeen. There isn't that much difference between being sixteen and seventeen, is there? Or seventeen and eighteen? Maybe there is. I guess I'll find out this year.

I smile at him.

Gran's looking between the two of us. "Well, why don't you two exchange numbers so you can meet up this year? Don't want to lose a friendship when it's just begun," she stated matter-of-factly. I could feel her eyes boring a whole in my face. I never wanted to punch a geriatric person more than I did now.

I felt the need to pull myself together and end this on a… I don't even know what kind of note. A solid one? It's obviously a good one, because the man-boy who could very well be the one of my dreams thinks I'm going to school with him in a few weeks, but in reality I'll probably never see him again.

"Yeah, that's a good idea. Do you have a pen and paper? Sorry, I know I don't in my bag." I'd just get this over with. If he ever called… I'd… tell him the truth? He'd hate me. Never answer? I'd never hear his voice again. I don't know. I'd deal with it then. I just needed to get away, and yet I had no desire to at all.

It turns out none of us had paper on us. Gran had left her purse in her car and Edward only had a book in his bag. It was _The Catcher in the Rye _by J.D. Salinger—one of my favorites. I didn't know what he was doing when he ripped a page out-- I almost yelled at him to stop but I was too late-- until he wrote his name and number at the top of the page.

"Here."

"But your book…"

"It's all right. I think I have like five copies back home. We can think of it as a hostage situation. You hang onto that, and for me to get it back, we've got to meet up. Deal?"

My mouth dry, I managed a small, "Deal."

He glanced down at his watch. "Man, I gotta go. My bus should be here. See you soon?" He looked at me with those beautiful, searching green eyes. I nodded, hating myself. He looked at me a little quizzically—I'm not very good at hiding my emotions—gave me a quick smile and squeeze on my arm, and walked off, his large duffel bag and backpack slung effortlessly over his shoulder.

"Well…That was interesting." I'd forgotten Gran was there. "You okay, Jelly Belly? You look like someone ran over your dog." I just shrugged. "And would you mind explaining everything? That was confusing as shit and I had to pretend I knew what he was talking about!"

I looked up at her and gave her what must have been a very watery smile, because she pulled me into a big hug, so I could smell her hippie perfume and put my face in her retro top. "I'll explain everything in the car, Gran. I just need a minute."

She took my backpack from me (she wanted to take the suitcase but I wouldn't let her) and we made our way to the parking garage of Logan and to her old, fake woodpaneled Volvo. I could just imagine the painted peace signs on the windows.

As we walked, I looked down at the page of _The Catcher in the Rye _I still held in my hand. I loved that book, since the day I read it in the summer for my freshman English class. I'd always been so determined to defend Holden, the main character, because so many people got annoyed with him and didn't understand what he was telling them. I always found that he was an earnestly good person. Edward's writing at the top of the text suited him. Masculine but neat. Much nicer than any guy I'd ever seen write, but still manly. Reading which part of the book the page was taken from, I saw that it was when Holden was asked by his roommate to write an essay. He wrote about his dead younger brother's baseball mitt instead of describing a room. Doing so, he remembers his brother's death and tells the reader he punched and shattered the windows of his garage the night his brother died. The words at the bottom of the page catch my eye.

"It was a very stupid thing to do, I'll admit, but I hardly didn't even know I was doing it."


	4. Chapter 4

September 1, 2009

This is it. I'm here. I'm really doing it. This… is… COLLEGE!

Not Sparta. _College. _

I'm not even sure how I feel. I'm… excited. Honestly, I kind of feel like I'm going to throw up. That's got to mean there's some nervousness, but really, it's nice to feel like this. I don't get worked up over much, so it's pretty pleasant to just feel some intense emotions. It's not that I'm incapable of feeling, I'm just…steady.

Sitting in the large auditorium, meant for play productions and orchestras, I'm surrounded instead by hundreds of freshmen, their combined chatter an unbroken hum in the hall. The atmosphere is infectious—everyone looking forward to new beginnings, achievement, partying… whatever happens to be their priority. Although, due to the rigor of the school, I don't think that anyone who parties too hard will last long here.

Amherst.

_My _college.

I was a little reluctant to apply, of course, due to that minor indiscretion with the pretty man-boy I met on that jolting airplane two years ago. Yes, it was nerve-racking, embarrassing, and unfortunate, but college is _important. _There was no way I was going to let an idiotic mistake I made years ago govern where I would and would not go to school. For all I know, Edward could have transferred a semester into his freshman year. If I am good enough to get into Amherst, I should attend. It would be ridiculous, a complete waste, if I compromised my education because I suspected a guy who I was ashamed to show my face to might still be in attendance here. I think. I'll get back to you if I do end up being reacquainted with said person.

So although I was strong enough to stifle my doubts and apply to Amherst, I am still sitting here with exceptionally sweaty palms…and a pained stomach. Undoubtedly, any nervousness I have is not from being away from my parents, but possibly being near the person whom I'd stupidly misled two years ago. I scoff at myself a little. I talk about him like he is a love lost. But he isn't. For that would require him to be interested in me (which he obviously wasn't), on top of having an actual relationship, as opposed to an eventful plane ride. Or was he interested? I've frequently thought about him since saying goodbye—why he'd insisted on us meeting again, his general concern for me, and the way he'd brushed my arm when he walked away that night. I look down at my arms: goosebumps.

Enough. I'm beginning to sound like a cheap drugstore novelist. I am not generally this touchy-feely emotional.

"Excuse me! _Excuse me!_ Everybody—all you adorably clueless freshies—please quiet down and listen up or else you'll be screwed!" A cute and perky upperclassman stands on the stage, waving her arms a little to get everyone's attention. She didn't sound bitchy, just honest. I listen up—_I_ want to start school off right, you know. Be as clueless as possible. I think I'll need all the help I can get.

The girl on the stage gives directions for people to meet at various locations outside the hall, based on last names, alphabetically, as usual. I shuffle along in the sea of confusion, not forward enough to shove people out of the way, and that's how I end up in a group of H's, with my group of S's for "Swan" nowhere to be seen.

"Shit…" I mumble to no one in particular.

"Are you in the wrong group too?" an attractively sweet voice asks from beside me. I look over—and down a bit—into the shining blue eyes of the speaker. She is petite, slender, and obviously friendly by the way she'd spoken to me.

"Um, yeah… I have no idea where my people are…" I laugh a little, nervous.

"Aw, me neither! But that's okay, I doubt it matters. We're just doing icebreakers. I'm Alice," she introduces, thrusting her hand out with a grin. I like her.

"Hi. Nice to meet you. I'm Bella," I reply, shaking her dainty hand.

"Ooo look! There's my roommate! Let's go stand with her!" She drags me over to this intimidatingly gorgeous girl—no woman—who smiles kindly at me, something I wouldn't expect from someone so beautiful. Her name is Rosalie, Rose. Even though she was nothing but nice to me, I could sense that if she didn't like you, you would be—in the words of that advisor in the auditorium—screwed. The three of us chat in the back, participating when needed in the lame activities, but don't really pay attention. They both turn out to be amazing and we make plans to meet up later at the campus cafe. I was sad to learn they weren't in my dorm, but one of the few other dorms on campus. That doesn't matter so much though, because I feel I actually made some friends—something I don't do easily due to my shy personality.

Making my way back to my dorm, my momentary sense of ease from laughing with Alice and Rose leaves me. I haven't met my roommate yet, but from what I know of her, I have a feeling we are very different kinds of people. From the one incredibly friendly introductory email I sent her, she replied with: "don't care about anything about you. your just someone i have to put up with when i sleep. or kick out when i bring guys back. i'm not bringing any appliances so you better." Doesn't she sound just _wonderful?_ I can't believe I'm going to have to spend a whole _year _with her. Hopefully she'll get kicked out. I didn't tell my parents about the email because I didn't want them to worry and none of us got to see her this morning because she wasn't in the room while I moved in. She was probably off blowing a stranger. Oops, did I say that? Renee and Charlie had gotten a little teary eyed when they said goodbye, but held it together surprisingly well. I worry the most about Charlie, because they're both divorced, but Renee remarried. Charlie's all by himself. But I think he likes being alone, so I guess it's alright. They're staying at Gran's for the night before heading back to their respective states in the morning—Renee to Florida where her husband Phil is, and Charlie back to Washington.

I fidget with my hair while I worry about this, a nasty habit I've picked up since growing it out. I stop abruptly and think for a moment. My hair had been barely longer than chin length when Edward last saw me. And my face has lost more of that youthful roundness, though not all of it, so I look older than I did… I consider. Maybe Edward wouldn't even recognize me if he saw me…My hair is down to between my shoulder blades now. Would that plus two years make me unfamiliar to him? I sure hope so.

Opening the door to my hall, I sigh, preparing myself to meet my complete saint of a roommate. I think I go up the stairs slower than a ninety year old blind man.

Okay. I LOVE COLLEGE. It's been about a week and everything is absolutely amazing. My classes and professors are incredible, except for one rather large math lecture, but I think that's the largest class I'll ever be in. We're reading _The Catcher in the Rye_ in my English Lit class—what a coinkydink. I still have the page Edward ripped from his copy and wrote his contacts on, safely tucked inside my journal of favorite literary quotes. I think I would expect for our incident to tarnish _Catcher _for me, but it hasn't, something I am very grateful for. I am also grateful that I haven't seen Edward at all, but also pretty disappointed. I can't decide whether it's a good thing or a bad thing.

So yeah, everything about my college experience has been perfect, except for god damn _Lauren_, my blonde, crack-whore-thin, cigarette and weed smoking roommate. Her personality is just like a fucking field of sunshine and daisies. She spits acid whenever we're in the room together, which is thankfully not often. The first couple of times I'd smile at her, trying so hard to be nice, but she'd tell me to "stop staring, you fat dyke". Yeah…not only is she a complete bitch to me, but she's prejudiced too. I seriously doubt she'd stop to help a crying baby in an abandoned town. To avoid my fantastic roommate, I wake up before she does and get out of there, and I'm asleep by the time she stumbles in drunk or high. Luckily she hasn't brought anybody back yet, but I'm just waiting for that night. I passed her once on the way back from a class and she tried to burn my face off with her raccoon eyes. I avoided going that way the next time.

I haven't complained to Alice and Rosalie about her yet, waving off their concerned questions, but I'm at my breaking point today. She puked on the floor last night in our room and didn't clean it up. I finally did because the rank smell was keeping me up. Unlike her, I wasn't under the influence of other things to keep me unconscious. So when I met Alice and Rosalie in their room this afternoon, I unloaded. With everything I added, their faces grew more and more pissed.

"That FUCKING BITCH!" I guess Rosalie couldn't handle it anymore. It did make me rather smug, knowing Rose is on my side. I would never, ever, _ever _want to be against Rose in a fight. She'd kick anyone's ass, and not just those of girls. Guys too. "That MOTHER FUCKING HOE BAG! I will make her eat her own puke! Who the fuck would be mean to BELLA?! MOTHER FUCKER!" Rose is a bit like a momma bear. It makes me feel safe.

Alice is a little more composed, but no less enraged. "Bella, seriously, me and Rose will take care of her. Please, let us. Pleeease. She deserves a smackdown sooo bad. She's on her knees and begging for it." The thought of Alice fighting someone is a pretty funny one, due to her diminutive stature. I can just picture her on Lauren's back, one arm choking her, the other bashing her head with a Jimmy Choo and her already spiky hair standing completely on end. I giggle a little.

"I appreciate your enthusiasm and support immensely, but I think I'm going to take care of this myself. Nonviolently."

My friends both pull disappointed faces at me. Rose shakes her finger at me. "If you ever change your mind, we are ready and willing." She does the universal fist pounding motion for beating someone up.

"You two are the first that I would call. Undoubtedly."

We have girl talk for a bit more, chatting about classes and any attractive professors (Alice has one in her Art History class but Rose and I are sadly lacking). The only thing I don't like about my classes is that Rose and Alice aren't in any of them. I did make a friend in my English class though, Angela, a quiet girl from Maine. I think one of the reasons I like talking to her so much is because she actually says "wicked" in a completely serious manner. She says the mosquitoes are indeed awful, LL Bean is pretty amazing and everyone's nice who works there, but she says she hates lobster. I feel like I've expanded my cultural knowledge of my country's regions.

As I walk back to my room for the night, I resolve to give Lauren one more chance. Not a chance for her to be nice, just a chance for her to not do another awful thing that sets me off.

Well she fucking blew it out of the water. I'm now sitting in the library, conveniently open 24 hours, deciding what to do for the night. I could have gone to Alice and Rose's and slept with one of them, I'm sure, but honestly, I was too scared to walk across campus to their dorm by myself. The library is located almost directly next to mine so it was my obvious choice. There are a couple of students in here working, preparing to pull all nighters, I'm sure. Some have mugs of coffee, others have blankets, some have both or none, but all look exhausted and like they don't want to be there. It is three in the morning after all. That's an okay time to be awake if you're partying or doing fun stuff, but not when you're working. I've only had to ever pull one all nighter, because I'm a generally extremely organized and hard working student. The one I did do was pure hell though.

Looking around, I spot a couch. _Score! _No one's sitting on it because it's too damn comfortable and they'd fall asleep. For me, however, it's just what I'm looking to do. I smile at a tan, built guy sitting at a nearby table on my way over to my makeshift bed and he smiles back. I curl up on the couch, wishing I'd brought a blanket, but happy that it's long enough for me to only have to scrunch my legs up a little bit. I didn't have time to grab anything warm on my way out of my room. Yes, it was only early September, but at nights it gets cold, and the heating isn't turned on in any of the buildings yet. Yelling at myself in my head, I really wish I could be an assertive person, but I'm just such a fucking pushover by nature. I hate confrontation. I mean, I can be stubborn, and I hold true to what I believe in, but I just… can't bring myself to go up against an overbearing person. Which is exactly what Lauren is. So when she crashed into our room, threw a guy on her bed, and yelled at me to get the fuck out, I did. There was no way I was going to get them out and I most certainly did not want to be there for what they were going to do. I'm too tired to think anymore about it though, vowing to go to the housing admin in the morning to get it straightened out. I close my eyes, lie my head down on the cool leather of the couch, and go to sleep.

I open my eyes and am momentarily confused because I am looking at shelves of books instead of a generic dorm room wall. But then I remember that my skanky assed roommate kicked me out last night. I get angry thinking about it. She should actually fear for her life once my two badass friends hear about it. I turn onto my back, stretching, and realize I'm underneath a blanket… But I didn't bring a blanket with me last night. Sitting up to get a more panoramic view of my surroundings, I see the tan guy I'd smiled at last night slumped on the table with his head on the keyboard of a laptop. Did he…? Yes, he totally did. He had a blue blanket with him last night. I have a blue blanket on me now and he doesn't have his anymore. So he must have put this over me last night, right? That's so… thoughtful. Kind gestures are always so much better immediately following another person being absolutely horrible to you.

The guy rolls his head off of his keyboard and onto one of his impressively large and muscular arms. Examining him more closely, he's actually pretty huge—at least 6'4, although it's hard to tell with him sitting and half sprawled across the table. I soon realize that if he's fallen asleep with his laptop still open, he didn't finish whatever he was working on. Shit. There can't be too much worse academically than pulling an all nighter and not even finishing what you'd worked on. So, with this thought, I decide to help him…if I can. I'll have to check it out. Walking quietly up to him, I gently move the laptop away from him. If he has a password for every time it goes to sleep I'm not going to be able to do anything. He doesn't, however.

The document that's up is an analysis essay on _Anne of Green Gables. _I laugh, thinking how such a masculine guy is reading about a little, freckly, romantic girl. He must be a freshman too, despite his size, because I'd heard all the English profs start their classes off with a short and relatively easy read, although I definitely think _Catcher _is a bit more difficult than "Anne with an _e_." But hey, that's just me. Don't get me wrong, I'm totally not hating on Anne, I just… never mind. It isn't really important, is it? What _does _matter, is that despite my very recent apparent ragging on this book, I've read it multiple times, analyzed it just last year in English, and feel confident in the subject matter. Reading the essay, I understand what the sleeping stranger is trying to prove and he only left the conclusion to finish. Which means I only really have to build off of what he's already said, but conclusions are so important because they're the final statement of the analyst's opinions. I pause and wonder if he'll be angry at me, then wave the idea off, because it'll only be a few sentences and he can always tweak them. It's not like I'm changing things throughout his whole paper. Besides, he's a guy. They don't care about stuff like that as long as they just get it done. Deciding what to write isn't as tricky as I thought it'd be because whoever he is writes in a very straightforward manner, although still very insightful. I pull up a sticky note and drag it beside the finished document, saying thank you for the blanket and that I'd finished his essay as payment, because I know it sucks to not finish after all that work. I fold up the blanket and put it beside the blanket. On a second thought, I realize I didn't check what his name was and look at his essay again to find out: Jacob Black. The hulking man boy doesn't stir, his face relaxed and handsome in his sleep. I wonder if I should wake him, because he could still miss his class even though he'd technically finished his paper. So on my way out, I tell the motherly old librarian about him and she promises to wake him up. I thank her and go back to my room to get dressed. It's still early, so that means Mr. I-fuck-sluts-like-Lauren will still be there. Or not. I doubt anybody wants to stay with her after they've gotten what they want. She snores.

The response I'd gotten from Rose and Alice yesterday was nothing like the one I got from them today at breakfast. I think any table with hearing distance of us was staring. I calm them down, telling them I am going to go work it out with the housing office, but they suddenly both stop, stare, and squeal.

"OH MY GOD, BELLA! You can stay with US!"

"Um… you don't have room."

"Oh, yes we do! As of this morning," Alice states matter-of-factly, wiggling around in her seat, excited as usual. Her faced turns solemn momentarily. "Anna transferred to a school back in her home state. She said her scholarship didn't work out but one did at another school… I don't know. It was all very weird and sudden, and she was acting strange about it. I feel bad though, she was nice. I swear she's involved with the mob, or at least her family is. They're hardcore Italian. Her mobster finance sources probably wanted her closer to home or something so they could keep an eye on her," Alice rambled.

Rose rolls her eyes. "_Anyway, _what Alice is trying to say is that you can move into her room!" They have a three person suite with a common room. It would be perfect…

"Yes!" Alice agrees enthusiastically, no longer wiggling, but actually now bouncing. One of Rose's arms shoots out to shove her back in her seat by her shoulder, and stays there as a precaution.

"You guys! That would be… amazing. Perfect. Thank you so much."

They wave me off, smiling, and we plan my move.

I think room mate switches are fairly common, because the lady I talked to at the housing office barely blinked. I filled out some paperwork and Bam! Official roommate of Rosalie Hale and Alice Brandon, making us the three amigos, the three musketeers, the sexier Stooges. Even moving my stuff out and then into their place wasn't that difficult, because I didn't bring many belongings.

Relaxing in the common room after everything is moved, my new roommates and I sit sipping on water, watching one of the newer romantic comedies. We collectively squeal and sigh and laugh together—always a good sign with friends. The male lead is brooding and a bit of an asshole, but ends up turning out okay at the end of the movie, of course. How else would he be in a romantic comedy? Women want their happy endings and these kinds of directors give it to them. Early in the movie though, while the male character is still in sexy dark mode, Rose slaps her hand on the arm of her chair.

"It has been driving me crazy this whole time trying to figure out who this guy is like!"

Alice and I look at her, curious and a bit excited. Come on, of course we are at the prospect of meeting a real life version of the perfect man.

"Masen!" she cries, emphasizing the statement with her arms. "He's such a _dick,_ but he's so hot!"

Alice throws her head into the back of her seat and laughs. I, however, am very confused.

"Who's Masen?"


	5. Chapter 5 TEASERto be replaced

"_Who's Masen?"_

"Our dorm Nazi," Rose replies, rolling her eyes. "A complete dick, but unbelievably attractive. Pretty _and_ rugged. He's got that whole tortured soul emo thing going on—but without all the black."

I glance from her to Alice, who's tucked into corner couch with her feet squished into the cushions, like usual. Her face has gone from laughing to an odd mix of pity and discomfort.

"Oh, and he's Al's cousin," Rose adds with a touch of apology.

Alice looks at me, eyes wide and earnest. "He's a good guy, I swear. We've always been really close. He's just been through a lot recently…" Her lower lip scrunches up into the upper one.

I hear a muttered "doesn't give him that much of an excuse" from Rose's direction but choose to ignore it… sort of. I put the movie on pause then turn back to my two friends. I don't like distractions during meaningful conversations.

"So why's he a dick? I mean, if he's related to Alice, he can't be _that _bad."

Rose emits a very unladylike snort, a sound that doesn't seem possible from someone like her. "He's a fucking ray of sunshine. Storming about with this horrible scowl on his face, angry at the world. And if you're caught with just a drop of alcohol on you and you're underage…God help you. There was a party last weekend—wait, not even a party, a _get together—_and he tore into those kids harder than a hungry girl with a tub of ice cream after a break up." Again, I'm glad Rose likes me. She's selectively mean _and _creative.

"That's not fair though!" Alice blurts, then becomes fascinated with the couch cushions. "The rules of the dorm explicitly say that underage students can't drink, and part of the RA's job is to monitor that. Besides, alcohol's a sensitive issue with him."

"Why?" I ask. _Maybe a drunken father? Or did someone he know die from it?_

Alice looks at me, sober. "It's not my story to tell, but I promise it gives him good reason for his feelings towards people our age partying."

Rose rolls her eyes. "Alright, it's understandable that he may be sensitive towards it and not approve, but really. Come on. It's college. A large majority of students do it, and all of the other RA's are chill about it. Sure, if there's a rager he has my total encouragement to go break it up. But otherwise…he just needs to chill."


End file.
